Stray

    "...the report is all of the above. I'm asking Witherspoon about the matter mentioned earlier."

    "That fool with only muscles in his head?"

    "Oh dear Vance, don't say that. Your 'brains' are basically meat."

    "You made a deal with him."

    "Yes, the reward is one of my eyeballs - voluntary, full of power, and the taste should be good."

    "Why all the trouble, Della Layne? You might as well let them kill you. Even if Edwards' body is destroyed, you'll only lose an eyeball - we all know you There's never a shortage of that stuff."

    "It really doesn't matter, but my contract with Cahill Edwards is not done - I just got the 'deposit', his knowledge is the only one, and I don't want anyone prevent me from getting it."

    "Witherspoon is not much better than you, if I remember correctly."

    "I don't like fighting, and he's an expert."

    "…and a very good test item, isn't it? I warned you, Della Lenien." Vance's tone froze. "My compatriots are not your props."

    "This is a transaction of your own accord, and you have no right to interfere."

    With that said, Della Lenien ended the call in a good mood. The communication crystal disappeared into the air, and the isolation circle on the wall disappeared one by one. He sat in the wheelchair and adjusted his expression to the right softness - after all, the footsteps outside the door became clearer, and then someone knocked on the door gently.

    "Mother." He grabbed a book, opened a few pages, and buckled it on his knees. "It's so late, do you have anything to do with me?"

    "I see the light in your room is still on." Mrs Edwards' voice came from behind the door. "Get some rest, child."

    "Don't worry, Mother," he said. "You need more rest—the silence of the night helps my thinking."

    "...Good night, son." After a moment of silence, the old woman whispered from the door. "I love you forever."

    "I love you too, good night."

    At this moment, the desert not far from Hiram City has no "the tranquility of the night" at all.

    Suddenly, Nemo and Oliver were completely unprepared for any battle. Oliver was better, at least in his daytime clothes, and his shoes were well on his feet. Nemo was wearing a nightgown, stepping barefoot in the sand, and the gravel in the gravel made him very uncomfortable.

    But now is not the time to tangle with soles.

    Oliver was woken up by the toss, subconsciously raising his hand was a blow, and then he was completely awake by the pain of the erosion of magic power - his hands were empty, and he had to use his own flesh and blood to endure the excessive magic power. The good news is that his attack seems to have an effect, and the black armored warrior is completely buried by the ice thorn—

    The dark figure broke out of the ice with ease, the giant sword slicing the icicle like a hot knife slicing butter. The grey parrot was poked into the sky by an icicle burrowing out of the sand and woke up screaming.

    "What's going on—!"

    But no one explained it. The aura of danger is stronger than any disaster they have encountered before, and the other party must have a sharp killing intent with a clear purpose. Oliver didn't bother about the wound that had opened again - the blood had stained his bandages black and red. He frantically erected a wall of ice in front of the black armored warrior, while Nemo desperately urged the spell.

    It didn't work.

    The black-armored warrior just walked a little slower, no doubt going straight towards the two of them. His back looked like he had eyes, and the ice thorns with tricky angles turned into soap bubbles for jokes in front of him, and they burst instantly when they swiped. Although he was wearing heavy black armor, he moved with a strange lightness - he advanced gracefully among the ice spikes. Bend over, turn sideways, and turn their metal-clad necks, as if to the beat of their inaudible drums, or some old, weird dance.

    Oliver gritted his teeth—his left arm was bruised again and drooping softly. Immediately he raised his right arm and continued to resist in vain. Nemo was so sweaty that he finally summoned a little shadow, and the other party ripped it apart. The gray parrot screamed and wanted to launch a spell to escape, but was instantly sealed in the magic circle, unable to move.

    They tried their best, but each other was as idle as a walk in their own garden.

    "When he came to ask me, I thought I would meet some interesting opponents." The black armored warrior split the last ice wall-Oliver's right hand also drooped down, bleeding uncontrollably Dropped, and he could only move his shoulders twice.

    If you give him a good sword now, he can't hold it anymore.

    Nimo clenched his fists so tightly that he didn't need expertise to see that - if it went on like this, Oliver's arms would be crippled. He tried to direct the shadows to attack the nearby black-armored warriors with trembling hands, but the shadows shook more than he did—they were swaying in a random manner, not even an attack. Even if they were lucky enough to get on the warrior's armor, they would be easily swept away by him in the next second, and they would be scattered like dust.

    "...It turned out to be only two children who had never been on the battlefield." He said, stabbing his sword at the parrot in the sand. "That's all you can do?"

    Niemo's heart had never been faster, and his heart was about to explode. For the first time Despair took hold of him so clearly, Nemo stretched out his hand again—the shadow lashed out, dragging the parrot from under the sword to him. Nemo didn't hesitate at all. He stretched out his hand and ripped open the restraint circle the same way he ripped apart the cage of lightning on the night of the test. The black-armored warrior stopped and watched with interest.

    "Don't think I'm grateful, I'm only strong enough to carry myself—"

    "Go!" Nemo whispered, lips trembling.

    The grey parrot froze.

    "Go away. And I beg you—go back to Hiram, tell Ann, and let her run away."

    After saying that, he opened his hands, and the black shadow barrier stood up again, separating the black armored warriors on the other side - but at this moment it can only play the role of blinding the vision. The grey parrot gave Nemo a deep look, and the figure disappeared in a black light. Almost at the same time, their enemies leisurely passed through the barrier.

    "Abyss magic immunity? It's really rare." He shook his head at the corner of the parrot left, "But that's all."

    It all happened so fast.

    When Nemo reacted, he had his back against the giant rock in the desert and knocked it out of the cobweb-like crack. Several stone pillars ran through his torso, pinning him firmly to the rock. He bowed his head shudderingly—his entire front chest was pierced with a solid, rib shattered, not to mention more fragile organs such as heart and lungs. He could feel his blood draining frantically, and his vision quickly blurred.

    It may be that the pain has already exceeded the threshold, and he no longer feels the pain, but it is terribly cold.

    Finally. Nemo thought blankly, and finally the moment has come.

    He never thought it would end so quickly. Nemo tried to breathe, but his lungs had already been crushed by the stone pillar. His heart no longer exists, let alone beats. Maybe this is the afterlife world, and he just hasn't had time to leave the corpse's ghost.

    The black armored warrior turned around, with his hands empty, looking at the posture that he was about to walk towards him - behind him, Oliver was pierced by a huge sword in his abdomen, reclining on the sand dune, not knowing whether he was alive or dead.

    It's over, Nemo thinks slowly.

    Scarlet ice thorns suddenly shot out from the sand, scattered into countless tiny ice needles, and pierced into the gaps in the armor of the black-armored warrior. Bright red blood seeped from the gaps in the armor, dripping on the sand, and the dry gravel sucked them dry greedily.

    "He's dead." The black armored warrior lowered his head, sounding unpleasant. "Even a demon warlock can't survive a broken heart. Your friend is dead," he announced coldly.

    Oliver did not answer.

    He was facing the huge rock and could see clearly. Nemo was nailed to the rock by the whole person, like some weird specimen, and the blood left conspicuous marks on the rock.

    Can people survive with so much blood? ... Rather, can one really bleed that much blood?

    He didn't want to think about it at the moment.

    Nimo always survives. They survived the wolf hunt, passed through the dark frontier forests safely, and even faced superior demons and endless hordes of demons. Nemo Wright always survived—even barely, terrified.

    The great sword penetrated the abdomen, and Oliver could feel the burning pain of the stomach acid eroding the inside of the body. He needed a lot of optimism and hope at the moment—like blindly believing that the man would still miraculously survive this disaster. Maybe Nemo just needs a little time.

      The sky descended, trying to stop the enemy's footsteps.

    "Amazing magic, but unfortunately inexperienced." Their enemy finally turned his head and turned around. The black-armored warrior suddenly pulled out his giant sword, and the blood thrown from the blade left a trail of afterglow in the night. "I'm glad to meet you at this moment, young warrior - although I regret not being able to have a good fight, if you leave it alone, you can definitely be a threat."

    He lifted the great sword, the tip of the sword straight to Oliver's head. The latter's eyes did not blink, and the green eyes flashed slightly, staring directly at the imminent death. The ice thorns did not stop for a moment, still attacking the target continuously, and the sand under Oliver's arms had long been dyed black by the overflowing blood.

    The tip of the great sword stabbed heavily and swiftly.

    But it didn't hit its target. It should have shattered Oliver's head like a watermelon, ending tonight's tedious fight. Oliver was still lying in the same place, but the great sword that came in disappeared, along with the entire right arm of the black-armored warrior.

    Oliver leaned against the dune, gasping for breath. He opened his eyes wide, and looked at the person who did all this together with the enemy—

    Nemo was walking towards them, and I do not know when to break free of the deadly stone pillars. There was a horrible blood hole in his torso, and they could even see through it to see what was behind him. But it was healing fast—as if it wasn't a human body, but made of magic, a misty illusion of color.

    The familiar sense of terror came suddenly, flooding Oliver. It was clearer than ever, and now he could almost instinctively assert that it was definitely not human, but something other than human.

    His enemies obviously had similar thoughts, and the black armored warrior slowly took a step back - since he appeared in front of them, he has never stepped back.

    When Nemo was more than ten steps away from them, the blood hole finally closed completely. His linen nightgown had long been tattered by the stone pillars, soaked in blood, and nearly black in the dark night. At this time, a piece of intact skin was exposed in the broken cloth, and the sense of incongruity became stronger.

    He stopped, raised his head, and scratched his head in a motion Oliver was all too familiar with.

    "Well, I don't really like to interfere in other people's actions." His voice was as usual, "But Oliver is my friend—could you please stay away from him?"

    (m..=)